454: Limits

He once hip-waded
across this life,
now no deeper,
just ankle-high;
those he’d stripped
in his mouth
He’ll now undress,
but in his eye:
A shot of water,
without whisky,
into sleep’s
half price dreams,
no sweated sheets,
no fingered-loving,
but he’ll wake more fucked
than he’s ever been.


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